


Pushing Back the Darkness

by house_cat333



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bigotry & Prejudice, Bisexual Female Character, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Loving Marriage, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Other, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Strong Female Characters, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28782165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/house_cat333/pseuds/house_cat333
Summary: Remus Lupin was never bitten by a werewolf as a child. Instead, he was born a Metamorphmagus. At the end of his second year teaching at Hogwarts, already fraught with the events of the Triwizard tournament, Professor Dumbledore gives Lupin a special assignment: help a young, unorthodox Auror named Nymphadora Tonks after she is bitten by a werewolf.As she struggles with her new transformations and he faces old mistakes, they might just make it through the coming war--but only if they find a way to fight together.
Relationships: Andromeda Black Tonks/Ted Tonks, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Comments: 9
Kudos: 15





	1. Chocolate Pudding and Wolfsbane Potion

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all characters and I bow before her genius. 
> 
> Please check out my other Remus/Tonks fic and remember to tip your author with a kudos, constructive comment, or view! 
> 
> This fiction is written for anyone else who is seeking light in what may feel like days of darkness.

“Name?”

“Tonks.”

“Full name?”

“You bloody already know my name.” 

“Full. Name.” 

“Ugh, fine. Nymphadora Vulpecula Tonks. Happy?”

“You know I’m not, missy. Position?”

“Auror.” 

“Sex?”

“Oh Moody, I’m flattered, really, but I’m just not interested in you that—”

“Blast it. Gender?” 

“Oh, come on! You know all this already! It’s in my file, which you wrote!”

“We’ve got to play by the rules here. So, female. Status?”

“Annoyed.” 

“Tonks, I’m warning you!” 

“Alright, alright! Half-blood.”

“And?”

“…werewolf.” 

The voices cut off suddenly as Dumbledore seemed to notice his guest lingering in the doorway to the headmaster’s office. The conversation had been coming from his wand but stopped when he tapped the wood with a thin fingertip.

“Good evening, Remus, please come in. I was not sure if you would be available to meet with me tonight on such short notice.” 

Though Remus Lupin had been in the headmaster’s office more times than he could count as a student and now as a professor, he never outgrew the urge to pick up the gold and whirring instruments or flip through the books tucked around the room. This was a place where deep thoughts were explored and problems solved. He could almost sense the answers to all his questions, both deep and trivial, dancing in the air like feathers, taunting him to just reach out and grab hold if he dared.  
He moved through the room until he stood before the grand desk and chose one of the plush seats before it, the same one he had sat in as a reluctant troublemaker, as a prefect, and then as a proud new member of the Hogwarts faculty. Yet, Dumbledore remained almost the same, always quietly reflective and gently amused though the longer Lupin knew the headmaster, the more he sensed a deep sorrow beneath the surface. 

“May I offer you a peppermint humbug, Remus?”

“No thank you, Professor, I admit I had my fill at dinner this evening.”

“Ah yes, I recall your fondness for the house elves’ chocolate pudding. I do not blame you in the slightest.”

Lupin looked up into Dumbledore’s eyes. They never failed to make him feel as though he were being examined by someone who operated on a much higher, deeper level than himself. Though not cold or unkind, those blue eyes reminded you just how much you didn’t know. At that moment, Dumbledore regarded him with an unreadable expression.

“Your note said it was an urgent matter,” Remus prompted.

“Yes, indeed it is.”

“Is it regarding my request for ways I could be of service over the summer holidays?” 

“In a sense, Remus. You see, I have been in contact with Auror Shacklebolt and former Auror Moody. Both of these gentlemen have been investigating potential recruits for the Order at the Ministry for some time now in case my hunch proves correct and Voldemort makes a move soon. We need to build relationships with people who are critical of the Ministry’s message and are amenable to our goals before the storm hits. Particularly after losing so many brave and brilliant souls in the last war.” They were both quiet for a moment, unconsciously leaving room for the fallen spirits they had known, lost in the memory of names and faces of those who were alive now only in dreams. 

So many good people gone. So many lives destroyed. Lupin’s hands tightened on his knees.

Dumbledore continued, “Miss Tonks, whose voice you just heard, was one of the potential recruits they identified. Young, eager, and with a talent for defensive magic that rivals your own, both Kingsley and Alastor put her at the top of their lists. That is, until a week ago when she was attacked by a werewolf while on assignment for the Ministry.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Dumbledore. How old was she?”

“Was? Oh no, Remus, you misunderstand me. Miss Tonks is very much alive. The conversation between herself and Alastor you overheard took place this morning at St. Mungo’s as a part of her re-evaluation for Ministry service. He sent it to me as evidence of her…willfulness, shall we say, which he says proves she would still be a good candidate for the Order and her new status may even prove uniquely useful to us if Voldemort’s plans echo those he made before.” 

“I still don’t understand what this has to do with me, Professor.”

“I would like you to go to where she is staying and offer yourself as a mentor. I realize this task will be challenging for you, Remus, given your personal history, but I assure you I would not ask it of you if I did not think you could provide genuine help based on your expertise.”

“What is the goal, sir? For me to convince her to join our side? I don’t want to take advantage of her while she’s in a vulnerable state.” 

“I would not want for you to do so either. No, what I hope is by providing her with the resources, support, and knowledge she needs in a time when the rest of the Wizarding world may be turning against her, we may be able to save a soul in the process. You remember how it was then. You know how easy it was to let the darkness take over oneself. For those of our community who are already relegated to the fringes, perhaps we can provide an unexpected spot of light. Perhaps we may be able to demonstrate what is possible when an individual is valued and respected rather than tossed away by society.” 

Remus hesitated and his conflicting feelings must have shown in his face because Dumbledore spoke again. “I will of course accept your refusal, based on how this may remind you of the unfortunate circumstances around your sister’s death. I will not lose esteem for you in the least, Remus. You are not the only one who carries such guilt.”

“She sounded…” He fought for the right word—unprofessional? Naïve? “Inexperienced.”

“I assure you she is thoroughly vouched for. She graduated from Hogwarts four years ago and went directly into the Auror Academy. Alastor was her mentor and I need not remind you the stringent education he can provide.”

“Still, she’s young.”  
“Yes, and also no. You yourself joined the war when you were younger than her and hardly had the training she has undergone. You and your friends certainly didn’t let that stop you.” Yes, he thought, and look how we wound up.

When Remus still hesitated, the headmaster inclined his head forward over his long, steepled fingers. “I confess I was never a talented Divination student, but I very much doubt history will repeat itself. Miss Tonks is not your sister and you are no longer the frightened young boy you were.”

Those piercing blue eyes regarded him until he had to turn his gaze out the window at the inky blackness beyond. That’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it? Would he choose fear, or could he choose to hope that things could be different—that he could be different? 

Remus let out a breath he realized he had been holding and his shoulders lost some of their tension. 

Dumbledore must have sensed his surrender because the older man added, in an amused tone, “Oh, and perhaps I can allay another one for your fears. While Miss Tonks may not be physically up to snuff at the moment, I would not worry yourself overmuch she will be merely… What do the Muggles say? Ah yes, I believe it is putty in your hands. She is currently staying with her family with whom you share a mutual connection. And I would advise against underestimating the stubbornness of the Tonks women, something your mutual friend can attest to.”

((((()))))

“How is she?” asked Moody as he stepped through the fireplace, not even bothering to dust himself off. 

A regal woman, crowned by thick dark hair and haughty eyes, regarded him with hands on hips. “How do you think, Mad-Eye? She was bitten by a werewolf last week! We’re lucky the healers at St. Mungo’s even let us take her home today.” Her frustration was palpable in the air and only served to reinforce how much she resembled her sister, Bellatrix Lestrange. The imposing aura of Andromeda Tonks, formerly Black, was somewhat diminished however by the round, congenial man at her side who shook Moody’s hand as he spoke.

“Hello, Alastor. Good to see you again, though obviously not under these circumstances.”

“Ted,” the ex-Auror acknowledged, his enchanted eye whizzing around to take in his surroundings while the conversation continued in the Tonks’ tidy sitting room. Mad-Eye Moody rarely looked like he belonged in any situation not involving the destruction of dark wizards but he appeared especially out of place in this pleasant shrine to domesticity with his stained leather duster and watchful gaze contrasting with the carefully arranged photographs on the walls.

Ted Tonks continued, “We appreciate you stopping by. Dora’s recovering as well as can be expected. The healers will visit every day for a while and if there are any changes, we are to send an owl to them immediately and leave the house after casting all the locking spells we can think of on every opening. You can imagine the telling off Andie gave them when they suggested that.” Moody nodded approvingly.

“Andie’s been perfecting her Wolfsbane potion technique under the assistance of the St. Mungo’s potion’s master. It’s bloody useful she got her N.E.W.T. in Potions since I barely made it to O.W.L.s. So, I’m working on my healing spells. Learned a few new tricks that would’ve been right useful when Dora was growing up. ‘Sides that, just doing what we can, I ‘spose. I’d offer you tea, but Dora told us you never drink anything you’re given now. At least we can offer you a seat.” Ted gestured to the settee facing the fireplace and Moody sat down after giving the cushions and patterned upholstery a thorough once-over. 

The father of Moody’s protégé sat beside him, folding his hands amicably, but her mother was pacing, clearly working her way into a speech.

“Spit it out, Andromeda,” barked Moody. Not many people could withstand the glare she shot at him and live to tell the tale, but he was as tough as an old boot and had known the middle daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black since she’d been disowned and willing to spill secrets about the Sacred Twenty-Eight pureblood families during the first war. While Aurors’ names may have been written on many Azkaban prisoners’ arrest warrants, it was Andromeda they could truly thank for their stolen freedom. Therefore, it was with respect and trepidation Alastor Moody regarded the fuming woman before him.

“Alright, Moody, I’ll spit it out…” she hissed. “Nymphadora, my Nymphadora! You promised me, you swore to me, that you would protect her. You were supposed to put her on paperwork duty, not let her run around the country blasting shadows with her wand like the rest of you adrenaline-crazed imbeciles! I trusted you, Moody.”

“Darling,” Ted intervened, “there was only so much he could do.”

Moody spat back, “I’m going to say this again, because it apparently needs repeating, Andromeda. Your daughter is a blasted Auror. Danger comes with the job. If it didn’t, we wouldn’t be needed in the first place. Besides, you know I’ve officially been put to pasture so no use blaming me.” He chugged a swig from his flask and repocketed it.

Like any decent dueler, his opponent changed tack to put him off-guard.

“What happened exactly?”  
“No one knows what went wrong that night—we’re still trying to untangle it.”

“While you’re untangling it, Mad-Eye, I’m patching my daughter back together. Was it a targeted attack?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“Why wasn’t her partner with her when the attack occurred?” 

“We don’t know that either.” 

“Have they found the werewolf responsible for biting her?”

“I’m not privy to that information yet.”

“Well then what do you know, Moody?” 

“We know the ministry isn’t happy. They may choose to throw her under the thestral and let her take all the heat. It’s an easy sell—a young, inexperienced Auror already known for being unorthodox goes into a situation wand-blazing where she’s in over her head. She gets hurt, it’s her fault. In any case, they’re still going to want to keep it quiet. Ted, if you have any contacts at the Prophet or discrete colleagues at the WWN, I’d start sending a few owls out now to keep your ear to the ground. So far, it’s still small: us, the healers, Kingsley, Scrimgeour, most likely Fudge, his Senior Under-Secretary Umbridge, and Dumbledore. But that’s too many already for my liking.”

This time Ted spoke. “Dumbledore? How did he find out?”

“I told him.”

“Alastor, why would her old headmaster need to know she was bitten?”

Moody stood and stretched, leaving behind an imprint of soot on the recently spotless cushion. “You and I know that Dumbledore is more than just an elevated professor. If you’re in a tight spot, there’s no one else you’re going to want more on your side. Especially times being what they are. And by the looks of things, your daughter’s in a very tight spot.” 

His magical eye fixed on the floor above while Ted and Andromeda exchanged significant looks. 

“It’s happening again, isn’t it, Moody?” she asked, her hand seeking her husband’s shoulder instinctively.

Before he could answer, a voice called from the top of the stairs. “Wotcher, Mad-Eye!” 

“Daft lass,” growled the ex-Auror at the same time Andromeda shouted, “Nymphadora Tonks you get back in bed this instant!” and Ted called out, “Dora!”

A young woman appeared on the steps, rolling her eyes at all three of them. She wore loose pajamas, a cheeky smile, and the edges of several layers of bandages appeared at the neckline of her shirt. “Mum, I’ve told you if I stay in that room all day I’ll go barking. I’m fine to walk around a bit. ‘Sides, I got peckish.” 

“You could have sent a note,” sighed her mother.

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have known Moody was checking in on me like a mother hen so it’s worth it. Glad to know you care, Mad-Eye.” 

He grunted, “Just stopped by to check the security perimeter on my way to a meeting.”

“You’re a bloody liar but alright. Give me another week and I’ll be good as new, maybe you can help me retrain a bit so I can get back in the field sooner.” All three older adults in the room exchanged looks with each other but before another word could be said, an alarm when off somewhere in the kitchen. 

“Come, Nymphadora,” said Andromeda, “time to take your pain potions.” The two women went up the stairs, bickering all the while. Tonks paused at the top to yell back down, “See you tomorrow, you big softie!” at her old mentor.

Moody spoke first when there was no longer a danger of being overheard. “It hasn’t fully hit her yet, has it?” Ted merely sighed in response.

“Listen,” the battle-scarred old warrior whispered, “Dumbledore is going to send someone who can help her soon. Someone who knows what it’s like. He won’t look like much, but he’s a good man. Trust him.” 

“The world must really be going to the dogs if the infamous Mad-Eye is telling me to trust someone,” Ted joked half-heartedly. 

“But always have—”

“Constance vigilance, yes, Alastor. I remember.” 

“Can’t be too careful these days. Anyway, best be off. And Ted…don’t let her do anything foolish.”

“Which one?”

“Both.” He took another swig from his flask.

“By the way, you’ve got 12 knuts and a sickle in your couch. And an old key,” Mad-Eye Moody called over his shoulder as he stepped into the fire, causing Ted to reach in between the cushions muttering, “I was wondering where that went…”


	2. Her Furry Little Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet Padfoot, Tonks pledges to join the Order while in her pajamas, and our future couple gets off to a rocky start.

Remus stood in a vacant copse, waiting. A waxing moon hung high, visible over the ring of trees around the clearing. The night was mild, but there was an air of expectancy in the world, an electric current. The time of peace they had known was ending. Dumbledore had been right to call whatever was growing on the horizon a rising storm. 

Here, outside the splendid walls of Hogwarts, he was no longer a professor, not a scholar, not a battered veteran facing a return to a war he never seemed to escape. It was refreshing sometimes, to leave the grounds as he had done tonight. It was too easy to forget reality, living and working in the castle. Thankfully the person he was meeting never failed to remind him exactly who he was. 

“Ah Moony, you got all dressed up for me? I’m flattered. I must be the closest thing to a date you’ve had in ages,” called a voice from the shadows. The rough and prematurely lined face of Sirius Black emerged from the darkness and so did the rest of him, clothed in tattered and weather-beaten robes—most likely stolen.

“A Triwizard event feast, you git,” Remus shot back, hiding his grin behind his turned back as he set about enlarging the covered tray of food he had…borrowed…from the house-elves in the kitchen. 

“Excuses, excuses. Did you bring me some?” 

“Of course. Extra ham and treacle tarts, as you requested. May I offer you anything else? Complimentary elf-made wine? Candlelight for ambiance?” 

Sirius groaned as he seized the platter and appeared as though he might even cry at the sight of all the food. He was painfully thin, truly looking the part of an escaped convict on the run for his life. It was the tragedy of Sirius Black: the vibrant, bold man with the barking laugh forced to become this hunted refugee stealing food scraps where he could and living in caves as a dog. _Another thing we’ll make Voldemort pay for,_ thought Remus.

His friend was speaking, though, “Actually, you could morph yourself into a lovely witch to keep me company, it’d be better than looking at you with that scowl you’ve got on now. What happened with the meeting with Dumbledore you mentioned before? He tell you that on your next mission you’ve got to go on a date?” It was a miracle Sirius could talk around the monstrous bites he took.

Irritated, but wanting to goad his friend, Remus leaned against a tree trunk, appearing as casual as possible and inspecting his wand as he said, “Something like that.”

Sirius’ head whipped up from his plate so quickly Remus thought he heard something pop in his friend’s neck. “You’re bloody joking.”

“Oh no, Dumbledore asked for me specifically, because of my expertise.” 

“Expertise? At what? Blushing and running away from any reasonably attractive witch who so much as makes eye contact with you?”

“You’re not the only one who’s changed in the past 13 years, Padfoot,” he said and grinned.

Sirius scoffed, “Yeah? I’ll believe it when I see it. Who’s the unlucky lady?” 

“An Auror named Tonks—"

Sirius’ eyes grew almost as wide as the platter balancing on his knees. “Tonks? Tonks… I know her! She’s my cousin Andromeda’s kid. She could barely ride a toy broom last time I saw her…” A now-familiar tinge of regret, resentment, and nostalgia came into his friend’s voice as it frequently did these days as he was reminded again of the time he had lost to Azkaban. 

Sirius reached around in his worn cloak pocket, pulling out a stack of tattered newspaper clippings, flipping through them until he found what he was looking for. “There. Nymphadora Tonks, yeah? I saw her name when I was looking for news on Pettigrew—it’s not often I get to be proud of my family. I couldn’t believe it was her.” It was an article from The Daily Prophet from at least a year prior announcing the new recruits from the Auror Academy, the three cadets lined up in their new Ministry robes standing next to their mentors and Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour. 

She didn’t fit in at all. She was the only witch in the picture but that was the least of the differences. Whereas her counterparts were all reserve and stiff uniformity, she glowed with personality. Her hair was cut short and styled like the modern Muggle punk look he had noticed on the streets. If he wasn’t mistaken it was even dyed, though the black and white picture didn’t reveal what color. Thick motorcycle boots poked out beneath her robes. She appeared about as likely to start trouble as to end it, but the proud light evident in Moody’s good eye in the photograph made him curious.   
There was something about her… 

He realized he knew her by sight. In his career as a scholar of dark creatures, he was often called in by different Ministry departments as a consultant. He had seen her a few times amidst the morning rush of wizards and witches arriving for work. He even remembered one time he had been called into the Department of Law Enforcement as a key witness for which he had needed to use his morphing to change his face to protect his identity in the trial. She had rushed around a corner and run into him, spilling everything they’d both been carrying. She had hit him so hard and unexpectedly, he dropped his morph. 

“Holy Helga, I’m sorry!” she had gasped at the same time he said, “Are you alright?” 

She had stared at him for a second before exclaiming, “Oh that’s brilliant! You’re a Metamorphmagus? Wicked. I’m jealous—Would’ve been bloody useful in Concealment.” 

And he had just blinked at her. People often had strong reactions to his morphing which was embarrassing, but he found he liked her unabashed sincerity. And her nose, which was delicate and straight and flecked with light freckles. He had blinked again and shook his head for good measure. 

“Here, let me help you with your things,” he murmured. 

“Oh, thanks,” she said, scooping up her files. When she stood too fast and almost toppled over again, he had steadied her, finding himself dazed by the warmth in her eyes as she laughed and murmured a self-conscious second, “Thanks.” 

As she’d walked away and he’s stood there like an utter prat and rearranged his features into the disguise he’d adopted before, she had looked back over her shoulder and called in a voice full of amusement, “If you’re going for the face you had before, you need a new nose—seems you’ve stolen mine.”

That encounter had been—what? Only a few weeks ago? How quickly everything could change.

Remus gazed at the black and white photograph. Again, he was struck by how young she was. In the photograph her head turned to catch the flash of one camera then the next, all the while a playful smile tugging on her cheeks even though she tried to appear stern like her counterparts. _Such a pity…_

Sirius, still joking as he ate, missed his friend’s sobered mood. “So, what’s the mission? Wine her and dine her to get into the ministry’s pants?” 

“You’re related to her?”

“Yeah, my first cousin once removed or some tosh.”

Remus sighed, once again the bearer of bad news. “Then, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this… It appears she was recently bitten by a werewolf.” Sirius growled a string of violent curses, some of which were so colorful and explicit he could have only learned them in Azkaban. 

“Bloody _what_ , Moony?! Just going to keep that information to yourself? How is she? How are her parents holding up?” 

“I know almost as much as you at this point. I do know she’s been selected as a potential recruit for the Order and Dumbledore wants me to help her.”   
Still incensed, Sirius said, “So your expertise is less romancing information out of her and more making sure she doesn’t kill anyone.”

“Or herself,” Remus added, his throat tight.  
“ _Merlin…_ ”

The two friends shared a glance across the clearing. 

When Sirius spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically gentle, “Let me help you, if I can, Moony. Just say the word. You don’t have to do it alone anymore. She’s one of the only good family I’ve got and if there’s anything I can do… Besides, I know you—don’t just nod and say yes but never let me help. I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” said Remus who gave a small, placating smile. “And I will. Truly.” He glanced at the moon which had shifted position in the sky during their conversation and sighed. “I better be off, I have some second-year essays on vampires to grade that are sure to be abysmal, and some lycanthropy homework of my own to brush-up on.”

Sirius came closer and handed over the now spotless and reshrunk serving tray. “Thanks again for the food, mate. Tell Harry that Snuffles misses him and wishes him luck in the final event.” He put a once-elegant hand on Remus’ arm, a grin on his face but Remus could read through it to the concern and fear beneath. “And take care of my cousin, but not too well, okay? Mudbloods marrying into the family are one thing, but fellow Marauders? Never."

Remus didn’t even dignify his friend with a response, rolling his eyes as he apparated away.

000

There was no logical reason for Tonks to be awake at 5 in the morning, but there she was--bolt upright and already reaching for her wand which lay on her bedside table. Moody had always warned her to keep it under her pillow, but Tonks wasn’t what you would call a peaceful sleeper and didn’t much fancy the idea of digging her wand out of the crack between bed and wall or frantically searching for it in the sheets in the case of an emergency. 

Adrenaline pulsed in her veins as she padded through her parents’ still home, checking the doors and windows. She knew the layout so well even she didn’t stumble in the dark, tiptoeing down the stairs with her wand at the ready. 

It had always been her instincts that were her greatest strength at the Auror Academy. For all her clumsiness and youth, it was her gut that made her a valuable member of the team. And at that moment, she knew something big had happened and that something even bigger was happening. Anticipation, both frightening and exhilarating, pulsated up and down her spine and tingled in her fingertips. For the first time since she had been bitten, she felt _alive_.

Outside she heard the slightest sound. If the house hadn’t been perfectly asleep, she would have missed it. Tonks wrenched open the front door and dropped into a defensive stance. 

The end of her wand was inches from Albus Dumbledore’s crooked nose and his outstretched fist was raised as though he were about to knock on the door she’d just opened.

“Ah, good morning, Miss Tonks.” 

She straightened and tucked her wand into the waistband of her pajama bottoms, grateful she’d even worn any that night. “Headmaster! Er, what are you doing here?”

“I’m afraid we have some rather terrible news to share.” Surprised at her oversight, she realized her old headmaster wasn’t alone on her doorstep. A tall man stood behind him, his head slightly hunched forward as though he were trying to hide his height. 

“I know you,” she blurted to the stranger, “I’ve seen you before at the Ministry. You specialize in dark creatures. I ran into you once.” She would have sworn he blushed but it was hard to tell in the dark.

Dumbledore spoke, “Ah yes, how rude of me. Nymphadora—”

“Please, just Tonks, sir.”

“Pardon me. Tonks, may I introduce to you Remus Lupin, Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore. 

“Wotcher, Professor,” she said, offering him her hand to shake. 

“Call me Remus. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he murmured without a trace of irony and shook her hand. His was pleasantly warm and much larger than her own, she noted, along with the fact that he was quite handsome in a bookish, gentle way—just as she remembered.

“Erm, anyway, come on in,” Tonks said. “I’m guessing you don’t want the neighbors overhearing. I’ll put on some tea.” 

She flicked her wand in the general direction of the kitchen and a light came on. On an impulse, she locked the front door behind them as they followed her in and added a few spells to seal it under her breath before guiding her guests to the table. She also threw a couple silencing spells on the kitchen as well, out of respect for her parents upstairs.

The anticipatory feeling vibrating along her nerves had only grown and she was trying to focus on the simple act of making tea, but couldn’t concentrate on such a mundane task when on high alert. The newcomers had brought a barrage of smell and sensory information with them which for some reason seemed more than she was used to even with adrenaline lighting up her senses. Plus, the sight of Dumbledore at her mother’s table was just plain bizarre. 

She fumbled with the teabags and managed to break a teacup before Lupin appeared at her side, murmuring, “Allow me? You can speak with Dumbledore and I’ll take care of the tea.” 

“Oh, thanks.”

Although she knew her mother would be appalled at a guest making their own tea, she was grateful for the excuse to focus on the news. She perched herself on the chair opposite her old headmaster. “Well,” she asked, “what’s happened?” 

“Lord Voldemort has returned to power.” 

Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn’t that. “ _Holy Helga_ …” she breathed. 

Tonks focused on his brilliant blue eyes, searching for any sign of his characteristic twinkle. For the first time since she’d seen him, it was gone. Remus Lupin looked equally grim as he set down their tea before them and conjured a small carafe of milk which he warmed with the tap of his wand once he joined them at the table. Now she could see the two men clearly in the glow of the kitchen light, both looked exceptionally weary, as though they hadn’t slept all night and were facing the prospect of a long while still to go without rest.

“How, Dumbledore?” 

With growing horror and outrage she listened as Dumbledore explained the circumstances of Voldemort’s return—how Harry Potter had been there and seen it all, how the Triwizard Tournament had been a sham to facilitate Voldemort’s return, how Potter had returned clutching Cedric Diggory’s corpse, and all this only hours before. 

Her stomach clenched. “No…not Cedric!” 

She had been in school with him, though he was a few years younger than her. She remembered him from the Hufflepuff common room and had even tutored him once or twice. He had been one of those rare, genuinely sweet young boys. And now he was gone before his life had really even started.

Tonks pushed back from the table and paced, a habit she had picked up from her mother when she was agitated. “I should have been there. If I hadn’t gotten bitten, I would have been on duty. I could have helped; I could have done something…” 

“You are not the only one who feels that way,” offered Lupin who had been silent up to that point, a deep furrow between his brows.

“It does not do to dwell on what might have been. We must now try to face what is,” added Dumbledore.

Frustrated, she tried to run her fingers through her hair. Then she remembered most of it was gone. “So, what now? What can we do?” 

Lupin spoke, each word heavy with dark gravity. “We must prepare for war.”

“Whatever you’re planning, I want to join. I want to fight!”

“It won’t be easy. You should think about the consequences before you join us. You could lose _everything_. The Death Easters, Voldemort—they’ll take it all from you before they even think of taking your life,” said Lupin. 

“That just means it’s that much more important to push against them, to stop them from what they did before! What they’ve already started with Cedric. I’m willing to do whatever it takes, whatever is needed of me.” She tried to put as much conviction and anger into her words as possible, tried to prove to them how much it meant to her to be on the ground and fighting.

The two professors shared a glance. The younger man his eyebrows slightly and Dumbledore gave a small nod. It appeared she had passed some kind of test.

“Alastor was right about you,” her old Headmaster said to her and for a moment the twinkle shone in his eyes again. 

The ceiling above their heads creaked and she fell into another defensive stance, hand already at her wand. When her brain caught up with her body, a blush bloomed over her cheeks and she righted herself, chagrined. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with me the past couple of days. Just jumpy, I guess.”

Professor Lupin was observing her over his teacup and she found his gaze unsettling. Not that it was harsh or dismissive, but his eyes were so…clear. As if she couldn’t hide anything from him. As if he never missed anything. Tonks was certain that if he had been her professor, she wouldn’t be able to pull anything over him even though he wasn’t near as terrifying as McGonagall or Snape. There was still something about him that made her think if you crossed him, you wouldn’t be likely to do it again. Most likely because you wouldn’t be able to.

“The full moon will be in two nights. It’ll be your first transformation, I suppose. Your senses are already more sensitive than normal, aren’t they?” 

She nodded, surprised and unnerved. 

“I’m guessing you’re getting headaches from everything being heightened and you’re also sleeping less because of restlessness and nightmares. Perhaps you’ve experienced some irritability? Achy joints?” he continued.

Suddenly she found his close observation of her intrusive. She didn’t want this…thing…to control her life or define her. It was just something that happened once a month. It was just an inconvenience, that’s all. Her furry little problem.

“Yes, thank you, Remus,” said Dumbledore. “Tonks, I admit that our visit today is two-fold. I have informed Remus about recent events concerning your attack and he has agreed to provide you with additional assistance.”

Tonks couldn’t hold back a laugh. 

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not interested in being treated like an experiment or one of the dark creatures you keep in a glass cage for your classes, Professor. Between the healers, the training I got at the Academy, and my family—I think we’ve got it covered. But don’t mind me. You know us _dark creatures_ and our _irritability_.” She crossed her arms over her chest which was hot with an anger she hadn’t felt a moment ago. 

Remus scoffed, “I’ve read those pamphlets the Ministry makes St. Mungo’s give out. They’re utter rubbish—I’ve been trying to convince them to let me edit those things for ages. They don’t tell you what it’s really like. I can help you.” 

“Yeah? And how do you know? Did you _study_ werewolves? Did you write _papers_ about them? Did you _observe_ them like test subjects in some Muggle laboratory?” 

She didn’t think it was possible, but Remus’ face became more drawn. Any traces of good humor grew cold.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet and strained. “I…had a sister. A twin sister. She was bitten when we were very young. She survived the attack…but the transformations…” He cleared his throat. “She died.”

“Oh.”

A leaden silence filled the room until Dumbledore spoke, “Perhaps we should take our leave, Remus. We have no doubt burdened Tonks with a great deal of information at once and we should allow her the opportunity to process the great many changes she faces, as do we all, in the coming days.”

“Of course, sir.” 

Together the men stood and Lupin flicked his wand, clearing the remains of the tea away as neatly as her mother did—though Tonks stubbornly refused to be impressed. An angry blush still heated her cheeks. She led them to the door, waving away the magical barriers she’d set. 

Tonks felt chagrined but still resolute. No one else was going to prod her with their wands or treat her like an animal, like a thing. No one else was going to treat her like she had stopped being a bloody person. She liked this Lupin fellow well enough, but the thought of having him waltzing in every month with all his bookishness and politeness to tell her how her blood was cursed, to declare her a living death threat to everyone around her, to heap bad news on her like all the others had done… She just couldn’t take that. Especially from him. 

“We will be sending you a message soon regarding a time and place where you will be able to meet others who are joining the fight. Until we meet again, my dear.” 

Dumbledore bowed to her and took off down the front garden path.

Lupin paused before he followed, one foot on the path and turned. The light of the rising sun cast shadows on his face, exaggerating the weariness etched there, and cast red highlights in his short beard. “I respect your reservations, but you should know I don’t think of you as a creature. If you change your mind, Nymphadora, my offer still stands.”

He walked away and joined Dumbledore by her mother’s flowers, not giving her a chance to reply or apologize. As soon as they crossed the property boundary, they vanished together.

She stood on the spot for a long while, her thoughts churning. It wasn’t until she returned inside from the chill of the morning that she realized she hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell him off about her name. 

Later that day she had almost chalked the morning’s strange events to her pain potions messing with her head again, when, over the Daily Prophet announcing the strange events of the Triwizard Tournament, her father asked, “Dora? Was that Dumbledore I saw admiring your mother’s begonias at the arse-crack of dawn this morning?” 

_So, it was real, then…_ She really was going to fight against Voldemort, her aunt, her cousin, and all the others like them—even more than she had as an Auror. What she was going to do would matter—and so would she.

000

It wasn’t until that night when Remus returned to his quarters at Hogwarts after a quick scrub in the staff bath that he could finally reflect on the day. Flashes of scenes played out again before his closed eyes: Harry holding Cedric’s corpse; the limp, soulless form of Barty Crouch Jr.; and the diminished body of Karkaroff, who he had impersonated during the school year… Also mixing in his exhausted mind were the solemn faces of Emmaline Vance, Daedalus Diggle, Hestia Jones, and others as he had related to them the urgency of reforming the Order of the Phoenix. 

The pale, heart-shaped face of Nymphadora Tonks kept resurfacing, too. Perhaps it was because it had been a very different witch who had opened the door than the one he expected. Or perhaps it was because their exchange had gone so poorly. 

He wished his conversation with her had gone differently. He hadn’t meant to speak to her so clinically—she was right to be affronted. _Good Godric_ , she had been treated badly by the St. Mungo’s staff. Almost a month after the fact and she still bore the evidence of tight restraints yellowing her wrists. Raking wounds had carved down her left arm, clearly tended by someone who had no idea what they were doing. And even with a cursory inspection, he had noted with dissatisfaction the potions and ingredients meant for her healing. _Dittany? Next to useless…_ Of course, she didn’t want more help—she needed _better_ help. 

He just doubted he could be the one to provide it. He hadn’t helped Harry this year as much as he should have—it was just as well James and Lily had chosen Sirius to be the boy’s godfather for all the use he had been. His help hadn’t meant anything to the dead Prewett brothers. His help hadn’t counted for anything once Peter betrayed the Potters. And his help certainly hadn’t saved his sister. 

A wave of despair and loss threatened to overwhelm him and drag him under. The feeling of guilt and shame grew so weighty it nearly robbed him of breath.

_No. Don’t go there_ , he told himself.

In the darkness of his solitary apartments, Remus Lupin summoned the happiest memory in his possession: the day he had met his three future best friends on the first train ride to Hogwarts. He held the memory for a moment, the details crystalized after so long. Crisp September sun filtered in through the train’s window, raucous laughter as James and Sirius tried out spells they had made up, the warmth in his chest as he looked at them and felt he was no longer alone… 

Instead of its usual noncorporeal shape, a beautiful, fully formed female wolf erupted from his wand, its peaceful luminescence casting silver light around the room. It pranced about then lifted its head in a silent howl. At last, it curled up beside his bed where it lay in watchful rest.

No. He wouldn’t get lost again. He had a future. He had a purpose. It would do no good to let the fear win. Tomorrow he had to find Sirius and they would go about setting up Headquarters at the Black ancestral home. 

_And maybe I’ll stop by Honeyduke’s, too, for a conciliatory gesture,_ he thought as he closed his eyes to the fading light of his Patronus.

The full moon was one night away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again: I own nothing! 
> 
> *Holds out begging bowl and speaks like Oliver Twist* Please, y'all, may I have some more likes, reads, and kudos? 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read so far. I hope you'll stay with me on this adventure. The next chapter will feature one of my favorite imagined scenes: Sirius and Tonks reuniting!


	3. Bloodtraitors and Black Sheep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius and Lupin re-open Grimmauld Place, Tonks recovers from the moon, and Sirius gets to meet his younger cousin again.

“I never thought I’d be here again,” Sirius muttered, looking up at the façade of his family’s home, gloomy and uncompromising even in the summer sun. 

Remus took a tighter grip on his wand. The carved stone snakehead over the door seemed to be grinning at them, both a challenge and a threat. He’d never seen Sirius’ childhood house but he had heard enough when they were in school to not look forward to what they faced inside. 

“Ready to make your family roll in their graves?” Remus asked, nodding at the solid, studded oak.

Sirius smirked and rolled up the sleeves of his robes. “With pleasure.” 

He pressed his hand to the door, murmuring too softly for Remus to hear. For a tense moment, it appeared as though the password hadn’t worked, then a series of metallic clunks and groans sounded as the house reluctantly opened itself for them. 

Sirius crossed the shadowed threshold first and Remus followed, conjuring a pale blue fire in his free hand to light the lifeless space as they moved deeper into the entryway. Nothing happened. 

“Watch for the umbrella stand there on your right. One of Father’s treasures,” his friend whispered and Remus shifted over as they walked forward.

“Hello?” Sirius called. Again, nothing. He called again, louder, and the sound echoed down the halls. The door slammed shut behind them, blocking out any borrowed light from the world outside.

“YOU!” came a horrid, screeching howl. 

They raised their wands together, facing the direction of the voice. Remus’ blue flames grew and danced from fixture to fixture around the foyer, illuminating the portrait of a miserable-looking woman who opened her mouth and started to scream.

“YOU FESTERING CANKER OF A BLOODTRAITOR! YOU SORRY EXCUSE FOR AN HEIR! YOU DARE SHOW YOUR FACE IN THIS HOUSE AGAIN?” 

“Bloody bollocking balls, you frightful old hag!” Sirius shouted back. 

“YOU STAIN UPON THE NAME OF BLACK! WHY COULDN’T IT HAVE BEEN YOU WHO DIED INSTEAD OF YOUR BROTHER?” 

“Shut up, shut up, shut _up_!” he yelled and began to blast the portrait with a cascade of spells that rained so thick upon the paint, the air around the portrait waivered like a mirage with the heat of his magic. And even still the subject of the portrait screamed dreadful curses and insults, joined now by a few other occupants of portraits that decorated the room, presumably called back to their perches by curiosity. 

“Disappointment!”

“Lower than a house-elf!”

Some even hurled rebukes against Remus, though these were admittedly less apt: “Sloppy dresser!” “Incompetent coward!” “Brown-haired bore!”

The din was becoming unbearable and Remus couldn’t shake the concern that there were things in the house that had been waiting for intruders like them for  
some time. _There goes the element of surprise_ … With several flicks of his wand, Remus summoned curtains over the portrait of Walburga Black and wrenched them closed over her twisted, snarling face, casting a final “ _Silencio_!” on the fabric and the space around it.

Both men breathed heavily for a moment as the other portraits quieted to dark, resentful mutterings, muffled by the cobwebs covering their frames and seemingly cautious of incurring a similar fate.

Sirius recovered first. Pushing back his unkempt hair he said, “Remus, may I have the pleasure of introducing you to my dear mother.” 

Remus gave a deep, sardonic bow to the covered witch. “Ah yes. I can see the resemblance in your penchant for creative insults.”

His friend responded with a snort of laughter that had them both chuckling for far longer than it should have as the adrenaline continued to pound in their veins. It was exhilarating to have taken up a fight again together. Sirius echoed Remus’ thoughts when he sighed, “Merlin’s beard! What I wouldn’t give to be seventeen again! This would all feel like the dream back them—breaking my mum’s things, pissing off my ancestors, fighting curses, all with one of my best mates… Now, it’s just depressing.” His dark eyes took on that haunted, faraway aspect that Remus had begun to dread.

Remus collected himself, saying, “Well, shall we see what other delights your family left in store for you?” 

Out of curiosity, Remus opened the neared door only to be met with a bone-deep, unnatural cold and the desire to fall asleep on his feet. Jerking himself, he snapped the door shut and locked it with several spells. Sirius had moved towards him but Remus shook his head. “Kikimora in the closet.” 

Sirius opened the next door only to withdraw quickly, his face a greenish-gray. “Disgusting--grindylow in the loo.” 

It had become a sort of game and they opened the next door together. Remus was sure the kitchen been pleasant at some point but it was currently suffering from a rather nasty infestation of spiders the size of saucers which spun webs that were an unnerving acid-green hue. They shut that door too. 

“How about a competition, Padfoot? Spiders are ten points, doxies are fifty, bogarts a hundred—”

“And Kreature, my mum’s old house elf, is a thousand, if he’s still alive.”

“Sirius…” Remus chastened.

“Alright, alright, fine! Kreature doesn’t count. But after a week you’ll wish he did. Now, are you ready to lose, Moony?”

“Being the most wanted criminal in all of Britain has surely gone to your head, Sirius. Besides, as you recall, you still owe me from our first bet.” 

“Should’ve known you wouldn’t let me forget that one. Fine, Moony, double or nothing?”

“Do your worst. 1…2…”

“3!” they cried together and turned to face the horrors of the most honorable house of Black. 

000

It should have been a nightmare—she wished it was.

Even as she lay in the sunlight in her parents’ back garden, her arms and legs exposed and being tickled by sweet-smelling grass, the horror stayed with her. A chill of remembered distortion and tearing rippled through her body despite the day’s warmth.

Her first transformation had come and gone now—but the pain of it lingered deep in her bones along with a tender exhaustion two days’ worth of sleep couldn’t seem to cure. 

Once more Tonks lifted her head and pushed back her sunglasses to survey her body once more. The feeling of no longer quite being able to trust it was new for her. Sure, she had put it through some bumps and bruises in the past due to her clumsiness and recklessness, but this was different. The memory of her skin stretching, the sharp prick of hair growing quickly all over her body, the teeth sharpening in her mouth, tongue lengthening, eyes changing into those of a predator. She was no longer alone within her skin—the wolf dwelled inside her, too. And it always would.

The knowledge was…violating.

But there was also the utter embarrassment of having to crawl on her hands and knees to the pile of clothes she’d discarded before the transformation began and the loneliness of her parents having to lock her away in the garden shed, even if it was magically enlarged from the inside. Plus, the humiliation of having to surrender her wand and become powerless for the long, dark hours where she no longer had hands to hold it with. 

She knew her parents had stayed away all night, taking turns watching from the kitchen window because she could taste the Pep-me Up Potion in the air the next morning. The concerned tenderness of her father waiting to help her inside the house while her mother went inside the shed to clean up the damage she had caused filled her with shame. It was worse than being a child again…

_Still, it wasn’t as terrible as everyone says_ , she forced herself to think. Tiring, painful, and humiliating…but she was no stranger to all that. She’d survived adolescence after all. _Just think about it like really bad puberty for one night a month_. 

“Nymphadora!” her mother called from the kitchen window.

“Oi, you nearly gave me a heart attack! What is it, Mum?” Tonks shouted back.

“Come inside! Your liaison is here.” 

Rolling her eyes, Tonks slowly stood and stretched, wincing at the soreness that lingered in her joints. She entered the house to find the Ministry witch who’d been assigned to her sitting primly on the living room armchair, hands clasped in her lap. An array of potions, poultices, and herbs were laid out on the coffee table in front of her. The smell from all the medicinal treatments almost made Tonks gag as much as seeing the sharp-faced witch who had watched her like a hawk since the day she was dismissed from St. Mungo’s. Always ready with a poison-laced compliment or derisive smile, Tonks didn’t trust her in the least and only put up with her barbs to get back to her work as an Auror as soon as possible.

“Good morning, Miss Tonks. I see you have neglected your remedies this morning. I’ll have to make a note of it on your record. We can’t have you being so carelessness—” But further criticisms were cut off by a knock at the door. Ignoring the rest of her dressing down, Tonks went to the door to find a familiar face.

“Wotcher, Kingsley! You’re a sight for sore eyes!”

“As are you, Tonks,” he said with a smile. “May I come in?”

“Oh yeah, always.” She shut the door behind him and his billowing purple robes and noticed him draw up short. 

“Ah, I didn’t realize you already had company.” 

The Ministry witch unfurled herself from the armchair, her back ramrod straight and eyes cold over severely angled cheekbones. “Indeed, she does. I am Florence Bartleby, Miss Tonks’ Dark Creature Liaison representative. And who might you be?”

“Her superior at the Ministry—Auror Shacklebolt, Deputy Head of the Auror Department.”

Bartleby pushed her glasses up with a finger to the bridge as she made no secret of her appraisal of him. “I wasn’t aware it was the duty of someone in your position to visit lowly novices at their homes.”

Kingsley’s deep voice rumbled around the living room. “Normally no, but there is very little normal about this situation.”

“And it is my understanding that in abnormal circumstances, adherence to protocol is even more important. I would be pleased to pass along your message to the werewolf.” 

“That won’t be necessary, Miss Bartleby. It is a high-security message and must be delivered to _Auror Tonks_ in person as soon as possible.” 

“And why would a werewolf on medical leave be privy to highly classified information?”

“As it pertains to the hunt for her cousin, Sirius Black, who poses a significant threat to her family’s wellbeing, I should say she has a right to know.”

Florence Bartleby looked like she was going to protest but Andromeda appeared in the entrance of the kitchen. Tonks noticed her mother’s hooded eyes were full of disdain and dismissal, grateful that look wasn’t being directed at her for once.

“Perhaps you would be more comfortable filling out your report in the back room,” said Andromeda, raising an eyebrow that allowed no room for argument. The Ministry witch seemed ready to protest but thought better of it as Andromeda towered above her. “Come. Follow me.”

“You have five minutes,” spat the witch as she followed down the hall.

“Charming,” said Kingsley, shaking his head.

“You don’t know the half of it. But you best make it quick, Kingsley… When she says five minutes, she means it. She notices everything. She’s probably counting the seconds right now.”

“Very well, but first how are you, Tonks?” She was horribly conscious of how his eyes traced the jagged, angry scars on her left arm emanating down from under the cuff of her sleeve. 

She crossed her arms. 

“ _Bored_. Come on, you know me. I can’t stay still for too long and this home-bound nonsense is driving me mental.”

“Well, that I can help with. Here.” He handed her a piece of parchment. She unfolded it and looked up in confusion. “12 Grim—”

“No!” he admonished in a hushed tone. “Not out loud! Memorize that address. Moody will be waiting for you there at eight this evening. Get ready, Tonks—you’re about to see what life in the Order is really like.” He gave her a grand smile, perfect white teeth glowing against his skin. 

“Are you serious? Tonight?! What is it? A mission? Will I be undercover?”

“No, not a mission yet. This is just a chance for the members of the Order to meet one another. You’re technically not a member yet, you have to be voted in to join, but as you’ve got Dumbledore, Moody, your cousin, and myself on your side, I wouldn’t worry.”

“My cousin?”

“Right, that’s the second part of why I’m here. I wasn’t lying before—I do have top-secret information about Black to tell you, but it’s not what you’re thinking. You see, Dumbledore has known where Black has been hiding for almost a year now. Sirius is one of us. One of the good ones.” 

Tonks just stared at him, her thoughts racing. _Sirius…on their side?_

A shrill call from the back of the house interrupted her train of thought, “You have one minute left!”

“Damn that—” Tonks began but stopped under Kingsley’s gaze. “—witch,” she finished weakly. “But anyway, when can I go back to the Department? I’ve got through my first moon now and it honestly wasn’t terrible. I’m fine!” 

Suddenly he looked uncomfortable. “Tonks…”

“No. Don’t say no, Kingsley. Please don’t say no.” 

“It’s not no, but it’s not yes yet. You’re too much of an unknown right now. You couldn’t have picked a worse time to be bitten. They’re not even willing to spare anyone to investigate what happened to you that night. Fudge is working overtime to disprove Harry and Dumbledore’s narrative.”

Tonks scoffed, “You mean the _truth_? Is Fudge really so thick as to believe they’d lie about something like You-Know-Who coming back?”  
“Fudge is revealing himself to be willing to do a great many things to stay in power.”

“You don’t think he’s been Imperiosed, do you?” 

“No, but he’s helping the other side nonetheless by deliberately obscuring the truth.”

“Why yes, Miss Bartleby, those _are_ antique manuscript pages we have framed in the hall. How _delightful_ of you to notice!” Andromeda’s voice rang out in warning as she led the Ministry liaison back to the living room. 

“Don’t forget about tonight, Tonks. And keep your chin up,” he whispered, hand on the doorknob. To the other two women as they entered the room again he nodded to each in farewell, “Andromeda, Miss Bartleby, Tonks… I must get back to the office. Take care!”

When Tonks looked up, she found the witch watching her suspiciously. Not wanting to encourage more scrutiny, Tonks chirped with an eagerness she didn’t feel, “Well, let’s get these potions down, shall we?” Inside she cringed, knowing she’d spend the rest of the afternoon in a groggy haze. She’d have to fake adding some of the ingredients again just so she’d be alert that evening, but who was to know? There was no way she’d miss her first Order meeting. 

000

Sirius was nearly mad with impatience, unable to eat the dinner Molly Weasley had sent with Arthur for him. Remus had said she’d be at the meeting that night, but with his friend out on a mission that would make him late for the proceedings, Sirius shifted restlessly. He had no interest in McGonagall’s small talk with Hestia Jones nor the latest developments in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. Then he heard the front door open and a breath later Moody entered the kitchen.

Tonks stepped out of Mad Eye’s shadow to reveal herself in the low lamplight, looking boldly back into the faces turned towards her. And then she noticed him.

For a long moment, they just looked over each other. He hated to even guess what she saw. Though he’d seen her picture in The Daily Prophet, it was different seeing her in person. She looked much more like her father in the face than he had expected, the same twinkle in her eyes she’d had when he’d come over and play with her when she was a child. But she had her mother’s coloring and there was something else he couldn’t quite name. 

As he approached her around the large table, he saw a few fresh cuts on her face and neck and her short, dark brown hair was growing back uneven and disheveled. She wore torn clothing, though that could be a fashion choice. She didn’t look well—he should know, he was an expert in feeling like a shadow of his former self. 

“Hey, ickle Tonksie,” drawled Sirius with a grin which Tonks echoed. “Sirius!” she cried before launching herself into his arms. They laughed together as he spun her around, her feet lifting off the ground and knocking back a kitchen chair in the cramped space. A few Order members took a step back out of the way of those thick-soled dragonhide boots. But neither bloodtraitor to the Blacks seemed to care much as the old convict set her down, twin expressions of excitement in their eyes. Before they could say anything, though, Moody interrupted with a harsh, “Alright, alright, knock it off you two. If you haven’t noticed there’s a war on and we haven’t got all night. Everyone—take a seat and let’s get started.” 

“I forgot happiness gave you hives, Moody,” she joked as she took a seat between her mentor and her cousin.

“And you get them from rules,” he shot back. “Now, first things first, we’ll have introductions all around, ending with Tonks here who is our latest recruit.” 

When it was her turn to introduce herself, Sirius gave her what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. Then, she stood and shoved her hands in her frayed back pockets. 

“It’s an absolute honor to be here, I just have to say that first. I never thought I’d have the chance, so thank you all for letting me attend tonight. But before I go on, I want you all to know something.” She took a deep breath, clearly steeling herself. “I’ve known some of you for years, either as professors or just by chance but recently, well… I’m not the same anymore. I’m—um—a werewolf now.” A ripple coursed through the room as tense looks were exchanged and uncertain murmurs of concern. Sirius took careful note of the ones who appeared most fearful and filed that information away for later.

She continued, “I only think it’s fair that you know upfront before you allow me to join the Order.” An awkward silence hung above the kitchen table.

Then Moody stood and grunted, “I know some of you may be wondering why I invited Tonks here to join us. One, we need all the help we can get these days from decent people and she’s as decent as they come. Two, she is a bloody good Auror.” 

“Was,” she corrected.

“ _Is_ and the youngest person in the last half-century to pass the test and one of the most talented defensive spellcasters I know. I vouch for her and her usefulness to the Order—werewolf or not.” No one at the table could recall Alastor Moody ever speaking so highly or with such optimism before.  
He sat back down and took a swig of his flask.

The room was still quiet when Tonks spoke again, cheeks vibrant with a blush, “My change was…recent. The Ministry isn’t sure they want to have a werewolf on the team, despite the clear advantages having one on hand would be to help catch Dark wizards. I’ve been suspended and I’m on the brink of unemployment, but I can’t just sit idly by. I want to keep fighting, I _need_ to. I just hope the Order will allow me to serve in any way possible. So…yeah.” She took her seat again, nervously fingering the loose threads hanging from her t-shirt. 

Sirius stood next, “We need someone like her to teach us old dogs new tricks. I’m all for it.”

Kingsley was about to get to his feet when Albus Dumbledore spoke from the top of the kitchen stairs, “Miss Tonks has my full confidence in her abilities and judgment.” He continued speaking as he moved into the room. “My apologies—I received an urgent owl that could not be delayed. However, am I to assume that she has received the requisite three votes of confidence from current members of the Order for her admission?”

“Aye, sir,” Moody grunted. 

“Then it is my happy duty to welcome you into our ranks, Tonks. May you serve those in the Order and Wizardkind with loyalty, pride, and wisdom. We are honored to have you. And now, I have some information to share with all of you—”

The rest of the meeting continued as Dumbledore gave them details about movements the other side was making and ways they would be countering them. It lasted about two more hours and ended with Tonks signing her name on a piece of enchanted parchment listing all of Order members, past and current. Sirius even spotted his own looping scrawl squashed between Peter and James’ signatures.

“Congratulations, lass!” said Moody, as he thumped her on the back, a rather unfortunate grin warping his battle-scarred face. 

“Sirius, a toast?”

“Excellent idea, Dumbledore!” With a wave of his wand, he summoned the newly scrubbed crystal goblets from the cabinet and a bottle of fine elf-made wine from the cellar. When all in the room had a glass in their hand, he stood and cleared his throat which was raw with emotion. Looking around the table, it was good to see the ones who were still with them, older and more worn than before. The Order was growing; they weren’t giving up the fight. Holding his glass of wine high he said, “To the best of us who are gone.”

“And to the rest of us who must carry on,” added a familiar voice. A nondescript elderly gentleman had joined their ranks and as he raised his glass, the wrinkles smoothed, his hair returned to its usual sandy brown, and his beard shrank back into a forgetful scruff—Remus Lupin had returned. The rest of the room repeated his words and drank. 

Lupin offered Tonks a slight smile as he spoke again, “Congratulations, Nymphadora.” Before she could respond, he had already been pushed aside by the others who moved forward to welcome her and another bottle later Sirius was giving her a final crushing hug goodbye with the demand that she not be a stranger because, as he slurred, “Us Black sheep have to stay together.” She threw her head back and laughed and he was proud to see the weariness she’d carried with her into the meeting was disappearing before his eyes. He also noticed the awkward way his friend kept his distance from her, yet still cast inscrutable glances at the back of her head every once in a while. 

_Huh_ , he thought. Maybe being stuck in that blasted old house wouldn’t be so boring after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for reading so far. I'm excited to see where this story is going. I thought I was going to have regular updates but my Master's is throwing things off. Please send out a kudos, review, or follow if you like what I'm putting up! 
> 
> Also, expect a new Remadora one-shot story sometime soon!


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